Aragorn's Sorrow
by emptyword
Summary: DISCONTINUED. Aragorn returns to Rivendell only to find Arwen in the arms of the elf Heled! If he can get past the towering waves of doubt and despair, he just might win Arwen back. But who knows what goes on in the mind of a mad elf like Heled?
1. Away For Too Long

Aragorn's Sorrow  
By EmptyWord

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**Author's Notes:** Bear with the long, overwhelming descriptions, and enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** _The Lord of the Rings_ is the property of John Ronald Reuel Tolkein, Christopher Tolkein, Allen & Unwin, Ballantine Books, Houghton-Mifflin, and innumerable others. My name does not appear anywhere on the list. No monetary profit is intended in the writing of this story.

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Chapter One: Away For Too Long

The red haze of a new dawn spread gradually over the lightening sky. The moon was now barely visible, a faint outline of last night's beauty. Purple clouds streaked the sky, blending with the early morning. Warm currents of air swept through the trees and the leaves rustled, a couple dancing to the ground.

Arwen Undomiel stood at the edge of her home, at the brink between forest and meadow. Rivendell, with its tall, slender trees and mystical beauty lay behind her, while foreign land, with its wild, uncombed brambles and raw strength stretched on before her. Her gaze traveled from the earth she knew so well to the pale reaches of the horizon. Her whole life she had spent within the confines of her father's kingdom, Rivendell, an Elf city of peace and wonder. Yet, despite the beauty and peace of Rivendell, she had longed for years, for decades, for centuries, to leave the safety and perfection of her home. She had been curious about the outside world, about its troubles, its grief, its joys, its life. Always she wondered.

Then, that fateful day two decades or so ago, her life was suddenly connected to that outside world. For from it had come Estel. Estel, the mortal man who had fascinated her from the start. She had been so curious, so eager to learn of the outside world. How could she not be attracted by this man from the object of all her wondering? From then on, she had gotten closer to him. And beneath that mask of strength, staidness, and unruliness, she had found a torrent of strong, raw emotions. She fell for him that instant. That knowledge that he was human. Likewise, he loved her back. It was so perfect. However, her father refused to marry his daughter off to anyone so inexperienced in the ways of the world. Though the Lord Elrond was a wise, kind, generous Elf-lord, he was set in different standards when it came to his beloved daughter.

So it was that Aragorn son of Arathorn, known as "Estel" to the Elves, and the descendent of Elendil, the old king of Gondor, set off to become a Ranger, and eventually take up his rightful kingship, in order to gain Elrond's approval. Patiently, Arwen had waited, waited for so many years. She trusted in their love and waited for the day to come when "the crownless again shall be king".

Two years ago, he had returned, for the last of his quests. Nine were chosen to take the One Ring to the realm of Mordor, he included among them. It had been such a brief visit, after so long a time. She was grieved when he left again; for this time, the peril was greater than any other journey he had ever made. She believed in him, but she could not believe with certainty that he could escape death. Many tears had fallen from her sad, quiet eyes each night. Often, she stood where she was now, gazing across the land, so dark then, straining her Elf eyes for a glimpse of him, tall and triumphant. And he did not fail her even then. He came back one day, tall and triumphant, crowned the king of Gondor. She could not have been more proud of him that day.

Arwen sighed wistfully. He had been away for so long. She had been desperate to be by his side once again. And for a while, she was. What happy days those had been! Each night, they walked together, side by side, the moonlight glistening in her black hair. All those days of absence were made up for and she could finally think of him without worrying for his safety. But he was the new king of Gondor and already, heavy matters pressed him to return to his kingdom. He had left again.

A forlorn smile graced her lips, the only indication of her inward turmoil. She was left to wait again. To get up before the sunrise and rush to the edge of Rivendell, hoping with all she had to see him returning. Arwen didn't think even she was that strong. Though she was an Elf with incredible inner strength, she didn't think that even she would be strong enough to endure such heartbreak. Why had not Aragorn taken a single day off to come visit her? Why had he not even sent a messenger to keep her informed of his activities? Arwen dreaded to think of the answers. She dared not believe that he had abandoned her and maybe even...turned to another woman; yet, day and night, she suffered these thoughts, drowning in misery. If it hadn't been for Heled, she didn't know what would have become of her all this time.

Heled. Now there was an Elf she could rely on. He was tall and slender, charming and bold, graceful and swift, the fairy-tale prince that would sweep away the breath of every maiden. Every time she saw him, he had that cheerful smile on his face, words of comfort to give to her weary soul. It was he who had held her through those days of despair, when Aragorn had left with the Ring for Mordor. It was his shoulder that she would cry on. It was only he who would see her true emotions pour out from her heart. Countless times she had looked for him and he had always been there. It seemed he was waiting for her almost, just as she would wait for Aragorn. Never once had he caused her any pain, only brought solace and joy.

Arwen felt a tear slip from her eyes. _Estel, Estel..._ She called silently. _You come too late...if you come at all. Forgive me, Estel...I am so sorry, my love... It is time for us to say good-bye. I cannot bear the pain you bring. I seek for the joy he gives._

* * *

King Elessar Telcontar, otherwise known as Aragorn, rubbed his eyes wearily. He frowned down at the page, which stared back up at him, offering no consolation.

It was already dawn and he had not yet slept a wink, burdened as he was by his work. Many letters needed to be read and replies to be sent. The Rohirrim horsemen were waiting for his decision on some land issue. Gandalf was currently at Rohan, helping to settle the matter, but he could not stay there for long. A new watchtower was being built on Weathertop and Gandalf was needed there to supervise the project. Much of the farmlands all around Gondor had been ravaged during the war and Aragorn was the one expected to provide enough for the people of Gondor. Not to mention all the dead who needed to be buried. The Great Funeral was to be held in a day's time and he had yet to get all the deceased into their rightful coffins. Then, there was the cost of everything. The aftermath of war was such a busy time!

Aragorn sighed. He knew quite well that despite all the complications, he was not expected to work through the night and into the morning. Yes, the kingdom of Gondor meant very much to him, but he was not stupid. He knew that he needed rest in order to continue on. But it wasn't for his people that he worked so hard. It was for Arwen. He knew that he owed her quite a bit. She had waited so long for him. And now he was away again. Aragorn straightened himself. No, he would not make her wait anymore. He would finish all his business here as quickly as he could, even if it meant more sleepless nights. Then, he would take the freshest horse and ride for Rivendell. They could get married there, and if she approved, he would bring her back to Gondor, where they could live until the end of his days.

A slight smile curved his lips at the pleasant thought, but he did not allow himself more than a second to dwell on the matter. He would spend time with her later. For now, he could not bear to make her wait on him like this.

His stormy eyes fell upon the papers again. Though he was sleepy, he began working with a new fervor.

A pair of green eyes peered at the king through a crack in the doorway. Legolas Greenleaf smiled compassionately. He had been instructed to stay at Gondor for a while with his father, who was there to issue an alliance with King Elessar. Unlike most, Legolas knew the king well enough to understand the main reason for his hard working. Aragorn's devotion to Arwen truly touched the Elf prince. However, Legolas knew that one could not live on love alone and he worried for his friend.

Coming to a decision, Legolas gently pushed the door open and glided into the room on his soundless Elven feet. He smiled again as he realized the king was too engrossed in his work to notice. It was not often that one could take a Ranger by surprise, even if that one should be an Elf.

"You are too occupied, King Elessar," Legolas said softly. "I wish you would remember the dangers."

Aragorn's head jerked up and he leapt to his feet in an instant, his hand already upon the hilt of his sword, Anduril. When he saw Legolas standing with a half-smile, he immediately relaxed, saying, "I'm afraid you took me by surprise, Legolas."

Legolas bowed ever so slightly. "You are out of practice then, my king. I hope this kingly life will not cushion your years as a Ranger."

Aragorn smiled, his haggard expression lightening. "Oh Legolas, my name is Aragorn. Why must you seek to annoy me by consistently calling me by my title. What has happened to those years of friendship? And I will agree to being out of practice, my friend, but may I warn you to watch your tongue in speaking that I live a kingly life." His eyes twinkled. "Or do sleepless nights and stacks of paperwork "cushion" my years as a Ranger, as you say?"

"Ah, but you do live the life of a king now, do you not?" Legolas challenged good-naturally. "The life of a king is not so very pleasant all the time, as you are realizing, Aragorn."

"Indeed, it is not," was the other's tired answer. "But I never expected it to be. Small love have I ever born for kingship and the efforts it requires to rule. But for Arwen I have agreed to be king, so king I am."

Legolas grinned at the way his friend's eyes would sparkle when he mentioned the beautiful Elf lady's name. "You love her more than anything, Aragorn. Why do you meddle in Gondor's affairs when you can be by her side?" His eyes were soft as he gazed at the king.

Aragorn shook his head. "I cannot forsake Gondor, or Arnor for that matter. They are the kingdoms of my forefathers. Is it not my duty to look after them with care? Gondor has lost much of its glory through the ages, Legolas. It is my duty to have that glory returned to it during my reign. I have hated responsibility for far too long. Now that I have promised to take on this task, I must keep it."

The Elf was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, it was with a teasing lilt. "Only you could be so noble and selfless, Aragorn. It is doubtless you are the true king of Gondor and Arnor."

The king made a murmur of protest and waved the statement aside with his hand. "I have much to learn yet though."

"And much to do," Legolas commented, eyeing the papers scattered across the counter. His eyes returned to his friend, brimming with concern. "Nevertheless, Aragorn, I suggest you get a full night's rest once in a while. You will work yourself to death like this. And how can you expect Arwen to be happy with a dead king?"

He seemed about to object, but then thought better of it. "Perhaps you are right, my friend," said Aragorn. "Despite how strongly my love burns, I need to return to my senses." He looked to the heap of papers again.

Legolas reached out a pale, slim hand and took the king's darker, callused hand within his own. "No, Aragorn," he said firmly. "That can wait. Breakfast first."

Aragorn's sigh was long and drained. He followed his friend out of his private chambers and headed down the halls, a thought ringing thunderously in his mind: _What about Arwen? I've been away for so long..._

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Finally, the end! Of this chapter anyway. Reviews would be appreciated!!


	2. The Decision Sealed

Aragorn's Sorrow  
By EmptyWord

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**Author's Notes:** Sorry this took so long to get posted! And thanks to those who reviewed! On to the story!

**Disclaimer:** _The Lord of the Rings_ is the property of John Ronald Reuel Tolkein, Christopher Tolkein, Allen & Unwin, Ballantine Books, Houghton-Mifflin, and innumerable others. My name does not appear anywhere on the list. No monetary profit is intended in the writing of this story.

* * *

Chapter Two: The Decision Sealed

Arwen wandered through the garden, picking her way through small, elegant flowers that had opened their petals for the day. The scenery was breath-taking, but her thoughts were occupied by a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed Elf.

He was so kind, his smile warm as the sun that shone above her and his voice as soothing as the gentle breeze that trailed past her. He had always, always stayed with her in her loneliness, even through the night and into the morning. There was nothing he hadn't done for her, and she was ever grateful.

Arwen couldn't help but contrast him with Aragorn. Heled brought such happiness and light with him, while Aragorn was more of a quiet, estranged man. Heled was the light, the day, the sunshine. Aragorn was the darkness, the night, the storm. Heled was more open, while Aragorn was closed.

Arwen could never deny that she loved Aragorn. She loved him too much for her own good, and now she was paying the price. Aragorn apparently was not so fond of her as she of him, evident now that he hadn't come to visit her or send word to her for so long. Yet even so, Arwen could not stop loving him. But neither could she suffer it any longer. She yearned not only to love, but to also be loved.

Her thoughts drifted back to Heled. She longed to see him again, to settle safely in his embrace. She would never feel as much for him as for Aragorn, there wasn't a doubt about that. On the other hand, Heled offered comfort and safety and stability that she was hard-pressed to resist. And she had no wish to resist anymore.

"Lady Undomiel?" a gentle, melodic voice reached her ears.

Startled, Arwen turned. She found the very object of her thoughts standing amidst the flowers and the sunshine, a smile gracing his lips.

Her dark brown eyes brightened and a delighted smile spread across her face. "Heled!" She quickly stepped towards him.

Heled enveloped her in his arms. "Why, I haven't seen that smile in a long time, Arwen!" he exclaimed, looking down at her affectionately.

"Then you should visit me more often!" she replied, laughing.

He gave her a curious, searching look. "You're so happy today," he remarked quietly.

"Shouldn't I be?" said Arwen.

"What of..." Heled hesitated, then continued, "What of Aragorn? Is he-is he returning soon?" For a second, there seemed to be an unusual glint in his eyes, but if there was, it was gone immediately.

A spear of sorrow pierced her heart, but she hid it, ignoring it. "And what of him?" Arwen said softly, suppressing the image of Aragorn that threatened to overshadow all her other thoughts. "He is gone. And it is foolish to wait on the past when a promising future looms ahead."

Heled's gaze was penetrating. "You do not wait anymore?"

Arwen sighed, but she had made her decision. "No longer can I bear the burden of waiting," she whispered, her eyes staring at something far away.

"I would not make you wait," he said softly, taking her soft, smooth hand. His eyes gazed into hers, questioning, seeking for permission.

"I know." Slowly, Arwen nodded her head at his unasked question, granting him permission.

He lowered his lips, eyes locked with hers. He wrapped his hands around her neck, and was suddenly very close, his breath tickling her nose.

Arwen tilted her face upwards, resolute in her final decision. Heled's eyes were not Aragorn's, but they were striking cobalt gems that many maidens would have fallen in love with. Her own eyes fell closed as his lips touched hers.

Their kiss was gentle, a brief contact of the lips. But it sealed her decision so firmly she was slightly shaken.

Heled smiled at her tenderly. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and in unspoken unison, they continued to stroll through the garden, not one daring to break the peaceful quiet.

* * *

A couple days later...

"This very afternoon?"

Aragorn glanced at Legolas with an amused expression on his face. "Yes," he drawled. "This very afternoon. Why do you look so...disappointed? I believe it was you who continuously pestered me to leave my post at Gondor."

Legolas blinked his shock away. "I am not disappointed!" he retorted. "Of course I am pleased that you will be going back to Rivendell today. I'm just a bit surprised. Despite all my urging, you did not seem to be any less busier." He grinned. "Regardless, it is marvelous that you've finally decided to listen to me. Arwen will be delighted."

"And you, Legolas? When is your father planning on returning to Mirkwood?" Aragorn asked.

"Tomorrow actually," answered the Elf. "And I will ride with him."

"Will you be here for the wedding?"

The Elf made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. "Of course I will be present then! How could I-how dare I miss the wedding of King Elessar Telcontar and Lady Arwen Undomiel? Never fear, my friend. I will return as soon as the message of your wedding reaches the boundaries of Mirkwood."

A sunny smile touched Aragorn's lips. "Thank you."

"For what, Aragorn?" That twinkle was back in Legolas' eyes. "For coming or for leaving?"

Aragorn laughed. "Both, let's say, and leave it at that." He started walking back to his private quarters. Casting one last glance over his shoulder, he said to the Elf, "Now, shoo, for a while at least. I've still some work to finish up. See you in the afternoon."

* * *

What a beautiful day. Sunny, breezy, beautiful. The sun glinted off the glassy waters of a nearby pond, scattering rays of light across the grass. The tall trees, with their lush, green tops, soared upwards, cleaving for the sky, yet still allowing beams of sunlight to pass through the leafy barrier. Clumps of moss could be seen here and there, covering the ground or the base of a tree. Silence reigned, other than the occasional song of a bird. Such a peaceful, beautiful day.

But the Elf-lord who walked amidst the trees was not fooled by the seeming perfection. Too many years had gone by when no such peace, no such beauty could be seen anywhere. He would not be able to forget those dark days, when it seemed that all was lost. It had seemed perfect once before. That perfection did not last long. Darkness streamed swiftly over all of Middle Earth and the peace, the beauty, the security had all given way. He had learned several times that everything could be lost in a matter of seconds. His old age had given him thousands of years of experience, and he would not soon shake off the constant wariness that, even now, still haunted him.

Lord Elrond, master of Rivendell, stopped walking suddenly, his sharp eyes catching a movement further ahead of him. He recognized his daughter and another blond Elf walking together, hand in hand. His thoughts angled in another direction.

Arwen and Heled had been spending so much time together nowadays. A couple days ago, he had sensed the bondage between the two, and he was shocked, though he did not show it.

Elrond had always believed that the love Aragorn and his daughter shared was the strongest tie possible. At first, he had not agreed to their love. It was scandalous. How could an Elf lady of Arwen's descent have dealings with a man such as the descendant of Isildur? Slowly, however, it became apparent that neither of the "young" ones were going to change their decision. As Elrond began to witness the deep, unbreakable love they shared, he came to accept it, and eventually, support it. He never would have thought that his daughter would forsake Aragorn for another Elf.

Now that it had happened, Elrond found himself hoping Aragorn would not return, not for the sake of Heled or even his daughter, but for Aragorn's own sake. He dreaded to think what would happen to the man if he should ever find out that Arwen had abandoned him.

Of course Elrond cared for his daughter and his daughter's happiness, but he had also come to care for Aragorn as a son. As he spent more time with the man, the more he admired him, his courage, his strength, his honesty, loyalty, and honor. He had the qualities of Isildur, yet lacked Isildur's weaknesses. Elrond was sure that he could put all his trust in Aragorn.

For this reason, the aged Elf-lord never liked watching his daughter and Heled together. He wondered why Arwen never seemed to feel uncomfortable at her betrayal. After all those years Aragorn had spent on her behalf, he would have thought that their love or at least her righteousness would have stood them through. Yet, apparently not.

Elrond gazed silently at the trees and sunlight and serenity around him. He hoped that Aragorn would not come back, impossible as it seemed. Rivendell would no longer be such a loving and perfect haven for him.

* * *

The land flashed past in a blur. Brown and green and blue melded into one nameless color as he galloped past unheedingly. His eyes were focused only on the distant woods ahead. His thoughts, however, were already there.

Aragorn imagined the look of surprise and joy on Arwen's face once he had reached Rivendell. Then, she would probably leap into his arms the moment they were alone. He would once again feel their love tying them together. The void in his heart would be filled and the years of separation could finally melt away.

He urged his horse into an even faster pace. Wryly, he remembered his parting with Legolas. The Elf had said, "Ride swift as the wind, King Elessar. A beautiful jewel awaits in Rivendell." And here he was, riding as swift as the wind for that jewel in Rivendell.

Hours passed and much distance was covered. For Aragorn, time had stopped. His whole being was centered around the thought of being with Arwen again. For his stallion, though, it was beginning to become a weary journey. The stallion was the swiftest and most enduring horse at Gondor, but it had its limits too, and now, it needed food and rest. For a while, the diligent horse kept going, sweat gleaming on its coat as it desperately tried to obey its master's order to get to Rivendell as quickly as possible. After a couple of miles, it began to stagger.

Aragorn was suddenly aware of his stallion's unnatural breathing and the way it tottered on. Immediately, he halted the poor horse and swung off it, cursing his own stupidity and carelessness. How could he have let the horse go on without rest? The way was too long for a breakneck ride without stopping.

Night was falling fast. Perhaps it would be best to rest here and continue the next morning. He led the stallion to a covered area, breaking off a bramble to brush the sweat off its coat. There was enough grass around for the horse to feed on, but he needed to find some water for the both of them. Aragorn searched around the vicinity for water, often bending his head to the ground so that he might hear the rush of water underneath the earth.

When he came back with some water, the stallion nickered to him gently. Aragorn smiled and patted its cheek. There would be another night to wait before he could see Arwen again, but after all these years, it wouldn't make a huge difference.

* * *

"My lady?" Heled murmured, holding out a hand to her.

The moonlight shone directly overhead, casting a glow around both Elves. They were once again in the garden, surrounded by a sea of fresh flowers.

Arwen smiled warmly and took his hand. As they began dancing, she rested her head on his shoulder. Her mind felt at peace as they swayed gently, and she was content to stay like this for the remainder of the night.

Heled looked down at her beautiful form pressed against his. She was truly the loveliest creature he had yet seen. And her manner was calm and mellow, though a bit emotional at times. Arwen would be a suitable wife, he decided. And he unquestionably deserved her after wasting so much precious time comforting her. He would never understand how that silent, arrogant outcast, Aragorn, had managed to steal Arwen Undomiel's heart in the first place. That despicable man didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve to be called an Elf-friend either. But it didn't matter now, because now, Arwen belonged to Heled, and Heled knew that Arwen had meant everything to Aragorn. How he would love to watch the man fall apart at his own weakness! A slow grin curled his lips as he anticipated the episode to come.

Oblivious to Heled's thoughts, Arwen sighed and closed her eyes. It had been a long time since she had last felt so tranquil. Yet, a nagging thought persisted to lurk behind that veil of tranquility, a thought with the image of Aragorn.

* * *

So...what did everyone think? Does anyone think the story is moving along too fast? Or too slow, for that matter? Thanks for reading!


	3. A Single Tear

Aragorn's Sorrow  
By EmptyWord

**Author's Notes:** Finally updated, huh? Thanks to all those great people who reviewed! And also, thanks so much to Rebecca who helped me get this story done (I'll learn to be more open to suggestions now, won't I?). I used some Elvish in here and the translations are in parenthesis. Oh yes, I want to make this very, VERY clear. This is an Aragorn/Arwen fic. Heled is NOT someone I intend to have Arwen pair up with.

One last thing: Gondor and Rivendell are actually situated much too far apart for Aragorn to make the ride in one and a half days. However, for the purposes of this story, I think I'm going to take some liberties with that. And now...enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** _The Lord of the Rings_ is the property of John Ronald Reuel Tolkein, Christopher Tolkein, Allen & Unwin, Ballantine Books, Houghton-Mifflin, and innumerable others. My name does not appear anywhere on the list. No monetary profit is intended in the writing of this story.

* * *

Chapter Three: A Single Tear

Soft, dark eyes...a pale, elegant face...a gentle smile...

Aragorn awoke from his pleasant dream of Arwen as his stallion nudged him. He smiled warmly at the horse, blinking the last vestiges of his dream from his mind.

"Already so eager to continue?" he teased, getting up and fetching some more water for the both of them.

In just a few minutes, he was back on the stallion's back and riding for Rivendell. As time passed, the dry grass began to look fresher and greener and more streams appeared. The sun was already high up in the sky when Aragorn decided to take another break.

"Well, we can't have you exhausted, can we?" he said softly to his horse, while grooming its mane.

He looked ahead and found that he was already near the boundaries of Rivendell. Not much farther to go.

In the next hour, Aragorn and his horse traveled in the woods, slowly weaving through the trees. Sunlight scattered through the leaves and onto the ground, giving the forest an almost drowsy taste. Aragorn once again felt the warmth and contentment of this place he could have called "home". However, excitement and tenseness raced through him as well and he looked forward to his reunion with Arwen.

At last, the towering silver gates appeared. Several Elves were stationed inside the gate. The sight of their ebony hair and the proud, graceful way they stood warmed Aragorn's heart. As he approached, the Elves turned to watch him. Many of them smiled once they recognized him.

"Welcome, King of Gondor!" called one Elf as Aragorn halted his horse in front of the gate.

The Elves opened the gates and they exchanged greetings. Aragorn continued on horseback into Rivendell. He truly felt at peace here, unaware that that peace was about to be shattered.

* * *

Lord Elrond paced his room. He paused before a framed picture on the wall, gazing steadily at it.

The picture depicted several large, sturdy ships. Boarding these ships were rows and rows of hooded Elves. Though the Elves were silent and hooded, there was a light of hope and joy in their eyes. Engraved upon the picture were the Elven words "Thar i'Numenenya Ear" (Across the Western Sea).

As Elrond studied the picture, his heart lightened. The time was near for the picture to come true. Elven ships were arriving soon to take the remaining Elves from Middle Earth and across the Western Seas to Valinor, the ancient, hidden land on the other side. It was spoken of old to be a beautiful, thriving haven where all dwelt in harmony under the eyes of the Valar and not a drop of blood was shed. The master of Rivendell had seen too much blood and war during his time in Middle Earth and he would be glad to leave it behind him.

At this point, Elrond was lifted from his thoughts as his acute ears picked up the footsteps in the hall outside. These footsteps were unlike the light, springy step of Elves. They were calm and firm, an even tread that was unusual in Rivendell. Elrond's curiosity was further aroused when the steps stopped just outside his door.

The door opened and a tall shadow came in. It was a man, with dark, shaggy hair and a stern, but tired face bristling with hair. He was clad simply, in stained green garments and a thick brown cloak. Though his appearances were ragged, there was a regal aura around him, along with a mysterious touch. What stood out most were his owlish eyes, two inky pools of gray that pierced into Elrond.

Elrond's cold façade dropped and surprise entered his eyes. "Aragorn!"

The Ranger's hard, weather-beaten face softened to a smile. He approached his foster father and suddenly flung his arms around the other.

Elrond was even more surprised at this display of affection. He had never known Aragorn to act so open.

"Nae saian luume', heruamin (It has been too long, my lord)," said Aragorn softly, releasing him. "I have missed you all. And I am glad to be back in Rivendell."

At this, Elrond's memory jarred and his eyes darkened. How could he explain to Aragorn that Arwen was no longer loyal? He could hardly hope for Aragorn to take it well. "I have certainly missed you as well, Dunadan," he voiced.

"Is all well then?" Aragorn questioned, unaware of Elrond's inner conflict.

Elrond hesitated. He could not just break it to the Man like this. "Fairly well, as it goes by," answered Elrond. "I should warn you, Aragorn, the time is close for the ships to take the Elves across the Western Sea." He watched Aragorn's reaction closely.

The Man seemed to jerk. The smile died from his eyes. "Amin hiraetha (I am sorry)," he said. "I did not mean to take her from you, but it is Arwen's decision and I will not interfere. She may yet change her mind and leave for the Undying Lands." Though he spoke thus, Aragorn did not really believe it. He and Arwen had broken down so many barriers together. They had sworn themselves to each other. How could either of them break their promises now?

The Elf-lord felt his heart grow cold at the truth of that last statement. A great sadness suddenly clutched at him as he gazed upon Aragorn. This man had many a time so willingly taken the weight of the world upon his shoulder and suffered so much without complaint. He should not have to bear the pain of losing his love as well. Yet, Elrond could only do so much. As Aragorn had said, it was Arwen's decision.

"Amin weera (I agree)," said Elrond. "But let us not speak of such things. The time for leaving is yet a way off. As for now, you must be weary. Your own room has been kept clean and you shall find it much the same as before, I hope. I will call for a great banquet tonight to celebrate your return, for you come now as the King of Men. Until then, the grounds of Rivendell are ever open to you, my son."

Aragorn smiled. "Thank you, my lord," he said before leaving, muddy brown cloak swirling around him.

* * *

After cleaning himself up some, Aragorn left his room, eyes bright and smiling. He strode down the hallways of Elrond's palace, eager to find Arwen. He did not know exactly where she was, but some sense led him through the palace and out into the open. He stopped a moment, gazing at the beauty of Rivendell. But even that did not hold him for long, so impatient was he to see his love again.

He continued through the forest, now gliding along silently, fearful of disturbing the stillness. Upon reaching a clearing, Aragorn halted with a slight intake of breath. In the clearing, dancing gracefully was the one he loved with all his heart. Eager as he was to see her, he was still not prepared for that first sight after so long a time. She was breath taking. Her dark, raven hair streamed behind her, glistening with a light that contested the stars. Her white mantle swirled and rippled like that of a white river. Her face was fair and exquisite, too beautiful for a Man's eyes to behold. It was as though he had been dying of thirst all these years before and had only now gotten his first sip of water. Aragorn smiled faintly at his desperate need of her. He took a step closer.

"Arwen."

Another person stepped into the clearing, calling out her name.

Aragorn hesitated, wondering whom this other was. He was certainly an Elf, with golden hair and a tall graceful stature.

Arwen halted in her dancing and turned to gaze at who had spoken. Upon recognizing him, she leapt forward in delight, straight into the Elf's arms. "I thought you were busy today, Heled," she said softly.

Aragorn felt himself freeze. The note of tenderness in her voice was not lost upon him, nor was the happiness in which she greeted him. He blinked, trying to clear his head. They were just close friends, he decided, no more than that.

"I was busy, my lady, busy thinking about you," said Heled in a low tone. Swiftly, he leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss. Silky strands of his golden hair fell about them.

Arwen's eyes fluttered close as she leaned into the kiss, smiling as she did so.

The Man watching them felt all the strength leave his body. Aragorn's mind went numb. He could not believe it. What was this? What about Arwen and...and him? Arwen loved him, just as he loved her too. Wasn't this true? His thoughts floundered helplessly, searching for a plausible answer. What was going on?

The two Elves pulled apart, both breathing rather heavily. Arwen lifted a slim finger and slowly traced Heled's cheek. Her dark eyes shone and a sweet smile graced her lips. "Amin mela lle (I love you)," she whispered.

Disbelief struck Aragorn and he stumbled, hearing the sound of a twig cracking a long way off. His vision blurred for a moment as the words slammed into him. He did not want to believe what he had heard, but there was no denying what she had said. Aragorn slowly shook his head, his gray eyes dull and confused.

Heled had been about to answer Arwen when he heard the snap of a twig. His head jerked up to the sound and keen Elven eyes easily located the trembling man among the wild brambles. Surprise entered his eyes briefly, but was chased away by amusement. Aragorn looked absolutely thunder-struck, and no doubt he would be in even worse condition as the days went by. Here at last, Heled's dreams would come true. Aragorn would finally get what he deserved.

Arwen followed her lover's gaze. When she saw Aragorn, a torrent of emotion flared up inside her. She was stunned. To see him standing amidst all the shrubbery, with the sun's warm glow settling on him, and his eyes directed at her... Arwen quickly reminded herself of her promise to disregard him, but her thoughts were forgotten when she saw the state he was in. Arwen could not contain the gasp that forced its way out of her mouth. His eyes, once so intense and sizzling, were now a flat gray. He was shaky, wavering on his two feet as though they could no longer support him. Gone was his calm, mysterious air. Only confusion and pain hovered over him, shadowing his face in sorrow. A flood of worry swept across Arwen. Surely he could not be suffering because he had overheard her words to Heled! If he'd truly cared, he would have come earlier! And yet, he now appeared so helpless, so lifeless. Another wave of terrible guilt swamped her. Was he truly so hurt? Had she hurt him so? Arwen tore her eyes from his, forcing her tears down. No, he did not care, she repeated to herself, and if he did care, he had come too late. She now belonged to another.

Heled smiled slightly in satisfaction. Things had worked out well. Not only had he avenged himself, he also had the most beautiful lady by his side, Lady Arwen Undomiel, Evenstar of the Elves. He had now only to wait for the "great" king of Gondor to fall to his ruin and all would be perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Aragorn's gaze stayed on Arwen, drunkenly taking in her beauty, but her words to the strange Elf repeated themselves over and over in his mind. "Amin mela lle." Never had she spoken those words to any but he. Never had he thought she would speak them to any other. Yet, she had spoken these words to another Elf. Had she really forgotten about the love that they shared? Had she forgotten him? Aragorn painfully awoke from his haze to see her looking at the ground, refusing to meet his eyes. Fear stabbed at his heart. Would she not even look at him? In despair, Aragorn turned and fled.

Aragorn crashed through the brush, deaf to the noise he created, blind to the peace he disturbed. There was no peace for him, in any case. He thought he might take it better if his heart were ripped out from his chest. That way, he wouldn't have to feel it shatter. Aragorn ran on unsteadily, drawing in shaky breaths.

After an eternity of tearing through the grounds, the Ranger finally slumped into his room, locked the door behind him, and dropped down into a dark corner of his room. His head slowly drooped onto his clenched hands, and he sank further into the abyss of depression. Aragorn truly did not understand what he had done wrong. What had drawn Arwen to this other Elf? Had Aragorn hurt her in some way? Had he somehow angered her? Or had she... Aragorn squeezed his eyes shut at this thought. Had she truly fallen in love with this Elf and he, Aragorn, had been nothing but a brief interest?

He recalled their short meeting in the woods just now. She was so beautiful, stealing his breath with her soft, refined features and delicate elegance. When she'd finally caught sight of him, her face had gone white, her features hardening, except for soft dark eyes that shone with guilt. Then she had refused to look at him, finding the ground far more interesting.

"Mela amin lle." The words suddenly thundered in his mind. Aragorn lifted his head to stare emptily into the growing darkness of his room. Did she truly love the Elf she called Heled? Had she really abandoned Aragorn for this other? Though he was loath to believe it, Aragorn knew it to be true. There could be no denying the loving looks she and Heled had shared, the passionate kiss that bound them.

A solitary tear slipped from pained eyes and trickled its way down his cheek. It lingered at his chin for a fraction of a second, and then dropped, tumbling to the ground, as desolate as the Man who sat in the darkness.

* * *

This chapter took an eternity to write! I hope everyone enjoyed reading it! You know how you can tell me? Review!

And don't anyone worry about Aragorn acting so grief-stricken. Rest assured, Aragorn will recover. He IS Aragorn after all.

Thanks for reading!


	4. Turbulent Emotions

Aragorn's Sorrow  
By EmptyWord

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**Author's Notes:** Thank you, thank you, thank you to those who reviewed! It really encourages me to continue writing! And of course, thanks to Iska Anoron, for without her, this chapter would not be up so soon. (Yes, I'm a rather lazy person)

Anyway, this chapter consists mostly of reminiscences by all parties (which means Heled, Arwen, and Aragorn). A lot of thinking going on!

Pairing: Aragorn/Arwen (Heled NOT included!)

**Disclaimer:** _The Lord of the Rings_ is the property of John Ronald Reuel Tolkein, Christopher Tolkein, Allen & Unwin, Ballantine Books, Houghton-Mifflin, and innumerable others. My name does not appear anywhere on the list. No monetary profit is intended in the writing of this story.

* * *

Chapter Four: Turbulent Emotions

Hours passed by, yet Aragorn did not even think of leaving the comforting darkness of his room. Here was his sanctuary, where he could mull over everything and not be prodded into reality to deal with reality's pains. He was not yet ready to face the world. Perhaps he would never be ready. Life was so hard that, at times, one just wanted to give up.

Aragorn's eyes stared emptily into space. Over the previous hours, he had done nothing but think of Arwen, Arwen and her pledge of love to the Elf, Heled. He did not understand. Why? This one question repeated itself in his mind. Why did Arwen choose Heled over him? Why did Arwen not love him? Why had she abandoned him without an explanation? Why had she pretended to love him back? Why did fate curse him to love Arwen, this beautiful lady who was so far above him that no matter what he did, he could never reach her?

Grief wrenched at his heart. For when it came to the basis of it all, he had done everything he could to reach her and it had not been enough. Not only had he given her his heart and his love, he had given his life as well. She was the one who he had done everything for. She was the one he had given all for. True, he had loved his mother and his foster father. He wanted to please Gilraen and Elrond, but even they could not force him to take his rightful place as the heir of Gondor. He loved the simple life too much. Yet, he had loved Arwen more. For her, he had thrown away his tranquil life with the Elves. He had gone on countless journeys and fought series of battles. He had traveled to the ends of Middle Earth and back. He had even agreed to become king, to sit on the throne and have endless power and responsibility upon his shoulders, his most dreaded fear. All this he had willingly done, in an effort to prove himself and his love to Arwen.

Aragorn clung to her as a lifeline. Everything he did had been for her, because of her. She was the one who sustained him. The thought of her finally in his arms had kept him going all these years past. And now... Aragorn trembled violently. Now, he had lost her, his lifeline.

Despite all he had done, it had not been enough. How often had he stretched out to clasp the star in his hands! And how often had he fallen short. He was not enough, had never been enough, would never be enough. The Evenstar was the brightest, outshining all others, and no one could compare, least of all, Aragorn. He would not suffice.

Stiffly, Aragorn stood. When he stood, it was as a changed man. His eyes no longer held that piercing gray light. Instead, there was a gleam of determination. His countenance was no longer proud and calm. It was the bearing of a man who had suffered endless pain but had come to terms with himself. Mystery had left his aura. The shadow around him suggested only nobility. Aragorn's heart still lay on the ground, rendered to pieces, to the point of no recovery. But he wasn't going to give in to life or death without a fight. He had not been born on the earth only to eventually waste away. There was one thing Aragorn had not lost when he lost Arwen along with everything else. He had not lost his duty. Now that he was the crowned king of Gondor, he could not just leave it. There were people who needed him and he did owe them that much as their king.

When Elrond knocked on the door to call him to the banquet, Aragorn was through with self-pity. He opened the door to the world, facing it with courage. When it came to Aragorn son of Arathorn, the blood of Numenor ran true.

* * *

Arwen's steps were light upon the hard marble of the halls. Her pace was agonizingly slow. She gazed, wide-eyed, at the place where she and Aragorn had once sat down and pored over the histories of Elves together. Her whole being stopped, suspended in time. Such fair times they had spent together! Arwen sighed softly, continuing her slow progress to the Dining Hall.

The look of abject misery in Aragorn's eyes as he fled printed itself in her mind. What pain he had been suffering! Arwen bowed her head, tears threatening to overflow. What could have pained him like that? Not her, surely! Not her meeting with Heled! Yet, the look on his face when he stared at her, that look of shock and utter horror... Could it be that he still cared? Was he indeed hurt because of her new alliance with Heled?

If he was, then his pain was her fault. She lost her battle with the tears. They spilled over her cheeks and splashed to the floor, leaving wet splotches on the clean marble.

The large, brown doors to the Dining Hall were just ahead of her. Dare she open those doors and face...face what she might have been the cause of? Dare she look upon the fallen features of Aragorn again?

Arwen wiped her tears away. She straightened herself and took a breath. If she was the one who had this mess, the least she could do was face it. If it wasn't her fault, then she had nothing to fear. Her fingers and heart trembling slightly, she pushed open the door.

* * *

The Dining Hall was glorious to say the least. There was a taste of Rivendell to it. The spacious hall held an exquisite beauty, a subtle hint of splendor beyond comprehension. Akin to the smooth, but swift white rivers out in the valley, the room was simply decorated. No added ornaments could enhance the majesty of the room. Just as the calm river waters could surge into a furious, irrepressible flood, so the hall could drop its veil and flare up with magnificence. Yet, like the mists that hung over Rivendell in the early mornings, the room also evoked mystery. Its beauty was molded from the hearts of the Elves that dwelt there. However the Elves felt when they entered the Dining Hall would be its tone.

Today, there was a golden glow cast about the room, not merely from the elegantly carved lamps and candles, but as though an enchantment of happiness had been laid. Every Elf talked and laughed with his or her neighbor and the atmosphere was complete with merriment.

Heled gazed cheerily around the hall, unperturbed by the fact that this banquet was being held for Aragorn, the one person he hated. After all, Aragorn had just been deeply wounded and would not be enjoying this celebration. Rather, he would be in pieces, bitter and self-pitying, not good company for the Elves. He probably wouldn't even attend, all for the best of course.

The door to the hall swung open, admitting Lord Elrond. As the master of Rivendell entered, the chatter died to a respectful silence. Elrond smiled slightly, inclined his head to the gathering of Elves, and walked serenely towards the head of the large, wooden dining table. Following behind him was a tall Man clad in the splendid garments of the Elves.

Shock whizzed through Heled's being. He gaped, speechless, at Aragorn, who was calm and dignified, the very image of a noble king. Quickly gathering his composure, Heled went to seat himself beside some other Elves. He was still disbelieving, however, and constantly glanced up at Aragorn to make sure he wasn't imagining anything. His eyes narrowed as he saw Aragorn easily strike up a conversation with a familiar Elf sitting next to him. This was not going to do! Had Aragorn not loved Arwen as much as everyone was led to believe?

Heled was jerked from his thoughts when the door opened again. This time, the Lady Undomiel stood in the doorway. All heads turned to greet their most beloved lady, the Evenstar of the Elves.

Arwen bowed her head slightly to the Elves and proceeded to the table. Once there, she gracefully seated herself beside her father, murmuring an apology for being late.

Elrond passed off her apology with a loving smile. Slowly, he stood, towering over the table like a majestic mountain demanding attention. Again, the hall fell silent.

"Friends and families of Rivendell," Elrond began, his voice steady and clear. "Tonight, we hold a celebration. We have had many celebrations in the past and this is not the least of them. For this banquet is held in honor of a Man who grew up in Rivendell, suffered endless pains and troubles, and is now returned to us. I am delighted to receive him for I raised him with my own hands. 'Estel' we called him once, and indeed, he was our hope during those dark days. His story is long and weary, a tale of journeys that he willingly took as no one else would. However, it is not my place to tell it. I will only say that tonight, in this celebration, we welcome him, the king of Men!" He smiled at Aragorn, who sat on his other side.

Elrond seated himself amid a torrent of applause.

"Aaye, Halan en'Gondor! (Hail, King of Gondor!)" one Elf cried out, standing up to hold out a goblet of wine towards Aragorn. "Cormamin lindua ele lle (My heart sings to see thee)."

The other Elves followed his example, each standing up and greeting the King Elessar with love or praising him for his great deeds. When it came to Heled, he did not stand up, nor did he hold out his glass of wine to Aragorn. His lips curled into what might have passed for a smile had it not looked so much like a sneer. With a hint of sarcasm in his voice, he said, "Most delighted at your return, Aragorn."

Aragorn stared hard at Heled, recognizing him as the Elf Arwen loved. His heart twisted slightly at the thought, but his expression remained impassive. As he continued to stare at the golden-haired Elf, he felt a twinge of familiarity. Puzzled, he watched Heled, and slowly, recognition dawned on him.

Forty years or so ago, while Aragorn had still been in his childhood, the two sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, had returned home one day with an unconscious Elf. When this Elf awoke, he could not remember anything of his past life, apparently having struck his head and lost his memory. The Lord Elrond pitied him and allowed him free rein to the mystical Elven valley of Rivendell. He was named Heled, after a golden-haired scholar in children's tales. Thus, he lived among all the other dark-haired Elves, a ray of light amidst darkness. While all the other Elves were solemn and wise, Heled was clever and vivacious. There'd always be a smile on his face despite any problems. Only one person had ever drawn his scorn and sneer. That one was Aragorn, the Man called "Estel" by the Elves. No one had ever quite understood Heled's hatred for Aragorn, least of all, Aragorn himself. Aragorn had always wondered what he had ever done to spite the golden Elf. He now had an inkling of an idea... Perhaps Heled had been jealous of the love Aragorn and Arwen had shared.

Of course, that was hardly a problem anymore, Aragorn thought gloomily. Arwen now belonged to Heled and Heled would not be jealous anymore. Now, Aragorn would be the one left on the sideline to watch and grieve.

Instinctively, Aragorn raised his head to look for the Lady Arwen, on the other side of Lord Elrond. His eyes found her beautiful, radiant form easily. She sat openly, chatting freely with a fellow dark-haired Elf maiden, a stunning smile gracing her full, red lips. Aragorn's heart clenched sharply at the sight and he quickly looked away. He could not afford to lose himself again. If he did, he might never recover. Resolutely, his expression hardened to one of polite reserve, and he turned his attention to his meal, unaware of Arwen's gaze on him.

* * *

Arwen tried to focus on her chattering friend Nenwing (Spray of Water), but it was difficult to pay attention when she felt Aragorn's strong presence just on the other side of her father. She was no longer worried that she had been the cause of his pain. Indeed, he did not appear to be suffering at all! He talked and laughed as freely and easily as he ever had, and he never once spared her a glance. There was her answer, Arwen thought dolefully. Aragorn had forgotten her.

Arwen struggled to shake off the grief that engulfed her. She shouldn't care if he had forgotten her or not! She should forget him as he had forgotten her and continue with her life. But Arwen found her gaze constantly drawn to Aragorn, her eyes dark and turbulent with emotion.

"You are hardly listening, Arwen Evenstar!" laughed Nenwing, her eyes following Arwen's to the King Elessar. Her smile broadened and mischief glittered in her brown eyes. "But of course, our lady's eyes and ears are only for the Elfstone." Her expression grew serious and she leaned in to whisper, "You are lucky, my lady. The King Elessar is a wonderful person, despite being a Man. Truly, I envy the unbreakable, undying love you share." Her kind smile came again before she turned away.

Quietly, Arwen looked down at her delicious food, not quite seeing anything. Nenwing's words echoed in her mind. 'And truly, I envy the unbreakable, undying love you share.' She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that had once again collected. What a marvelous love they had shared! And now, it was gone. Gone with the passing of the years.

* * *

Rather boring chapter, but I promise a lot more action in the next chapter... I really don't know how, but maybe Aragorn and Heled can have some sort of argument? Any suggestions? Thanks for reading!


	5. Encounters

Aragorn's Sorrow  
By EmptyWord

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**Author's Notes:** Once again, thanks to all who reviewed! Also, thanks to the three people who gave ideas for this chapter: Ellen the Trickstar, Bread and Cheese, and Iska Anoron.

In this story, Aragorn is a little over sixty. According to RotK, Aragorn should be about one hundred years of age after he ascended the throne. I'll correct this after I have finished the whole thing.

Um...the confession: I know I've made Arwen sound kind of stupid (maybe even cruel) and Heled really evil. And then I've turned around and made Aragorn into this perfect king. I'll try to have Arwen act a bit more "normal", but I can't promise anything about Heled or Aragorn. Heled's just, well, I don't like him, and I can't help being biased when it comes to Aragorn.

I know you're wondering when I'm going to stop rambling here, but I have just one last concern to address. I am afraid "the twins" (Elladan and Elrohir) won't be present in this story. I think I'll do something else with them.

**Disclaimer:** _The Lord of the Rings_ is the property of John Ronald Reuel Tolkein, Christopher Tolkein, Allen & Unwin, Ballantine Books, Houghton-Mifflin, and innumerable others. My name does not appear anywhere on the list. No monetary profit is intended in the writing of this story.

* * *

Chapter Five: Encounters

Outside, the waterfall sang its song with a clear, musical voice. Instead of the splashing and roaring of normal waterfalls, this one hummed softly and gently. It's soothing melody cascaded on the Last Homely House, particularly on one Man who listened from his room.

Aragorn walked to his window, which overlooked one of the beautiful, impressive waterfalls of Rivendell. For a moment, he was captivated by the beauty and might in every glistening stream that arched into the sky and then plunged downwards to the earth. He began to have second thoughts on his decision. Rivendell was so comforting. It wouldn't be such a bad idea to stay...even for just another day.

Shaking his head, Aragorn turned away from the window. He could not linger in Rivendell, no matter how much he longed to. He had already tarried for eight days, immersing himself in the natural wonder of this place he once called home. His mind was now drawn back to his kingdom. There was much to do in Minas Tirith at Gondor and he was expected to do it. Besides, there was nothing else here that could hold him. He no longer needed to stay with Arwen. There was only duty left for him now and that duty was in Gondor.

Now definite in his decision, Aragorn strode purposefully from his room, heading for Elrond's chambers. He stepped down a flight of stairs and turned a corner, right into the face of Arwen Evenstar.

There was a momentary lapse of time as the two stared at each other, emotions warring with each other on both their faces.

Arwen was the first to recover. She quickly concealed her emotions with a kind smile. "My lord," she acknowledged. "I have not seen much of you during your stay. I hope you are enjoying your return?"

"Of course, my lady," Aragorn smiled back. "The house of Lord Elrond could not offer anything less than that. Such beauty and peace could not be found elsewhere in Middle Earth, save the great Elven state of Lothlorien."

"You give us far more credit than we deserve," Arwen demurred. Her heart sank at the cool politeness of their conversation, and she inwardly wept for what had once been.

Aragorn broke their gaze, unable to bear it much longer. "It was a pleasure bumping into you, my lady. I wish you and Heled the best." His heart screamed at what a lie he spoke. Struggling with his emotions, Aragorn hurriedly bowed and continued down the hall.

She watched him walk, past a marvelous tapestry that in her eyes dimmed in comparison to the man, past the window with light falling on his dark hair, past doors that cast shadows on his figure. Arwen felt a sudden surge of profound love for him and before she could think about her actions, she was running down the hall. She was not quite sure why she was doing such a thing. She only felt that she could not let this man walk away, even if he wanted to walk away.

Aragorn turned in surprise as he heard the quick footsteps behind him. His heart stopped at the vision of Arwen, running to him, her dark hair billowing. He blinked as she stopped in front of him, her breath heavier than before. Once again, her astounding beauty struck him. Aragorn quickly pushed such thoughts from his mind. He did not need to be any more haunted by her than he already was.

Her heart floundering in her chest, Arwen suddenly felt very foolish. She opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again. She dared not speak, knowing she could only end up begging for his love. She could only gaze at him imploringly, silently pleading for him to take her into his embrace again and tell her that he did love her, that her doubts were irrational.

"My lady?" asked Aragorn, his voice detached and polite.

Arwen's eyes darkened with pain. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He frowned at her, truly confused. "There is nothing for you to be sorry about, Lady Undomiel. What troubles you so?"

She stared at him, pressing down the wave of anguish in her chest. Blinking tears from her eyes, she lifted her chin a notch. "I'm sorry for having dashed after you. Forgive my lack of manners."

He paused for a moment, stunned. She was apologizing for having run after him. No, he wanted to say to her, never apologize for that. If she only knew how much he wanted her to come after him, to tell him that she loved him and not Heled, that he was the only one for her. But it was useless to dwell on empty hopes. "I find nothing to forgive, my lady. Does something disturb you?"

Arwen was the one to avert her gaze this time. "Hardly, my lord. I wonder though, for how long shall you be staying?"

He cast her a look of disbelief. Aragorn had never known her to be so impolite! Was she so eager to see him leave? Aragorn stared fiercely at the wall, trying desperately to calm himself and ease his torment.

He mustered a faint smile and said, "Not for long, Lady Undomiel. I shall not take advantage of Master Elrond's kindness." He nodded briefly in respect and turned away. Controlling himself, Aragorn proceeded towards Elrond's chambers.

Arwen stood still, her eyes remaining on the king of Gondor until he had passed down another hallway. She did not run after him this time. She promised herself she would never run after him again.

Her heart heavy with sorrow and her eyes busy watching Aragorn's retreating figure, Arwen failed to notice the wisp of golden hair that disappeared around a nearby corner.

* * *

Legolas accepted the tea graciously. "Thank you," he murmured to the young maid who was blushing furiously, her flaming face matching the red of her curly hair.

With the tea tray dangling from her hand, the maid dropped her gaze to the floor. "You're wel-welcome, my lord."

His eyes glinted with laughter. "You are free to leave then," said Legolas. He watched with a mixture of sympathy and amusement as the poor girl fairly fled from the room.

Once the maid was gone, Legolas sipped at his tea, staring over the brim at the mantelpiece across the room. This was the guestroom that had been given to him for as long as he found it necessary to stay at Gondor. For Legolas had not left with his father for Mirkwood. At the last moment, his father had decided it was too inconvenient for Legolas to return to Mirkwood only to go to Gondor again for King Elessar's wedding. It was enough that Thranduil himself was going to Mirkwood.

Legolas was beginning to worry though. Aragorn had not yet returned from Rivendell, or sent any message to Gondor to prepare for a marriage ceremony. Eight days had passed already. Aragorn should be back at Gondor with Arwen by now. Legolas wondered just what was keeping the Man.

He set the cup of tea down, thinking wryly that the maid had forgotten to leave him the tea tray. With the grace of a dancer, Legolas stood from his chair. Making up his mind, he left the room and went out to the stables. Swiftly, he wrote a message for the stable hand to give to the councilman in charge while Aragorn was away. As soon as he'd saddled his horse, Legolas swung on and rode off, his bright gaze set in the direction of Rivendell.

* * *

Elrond turned sharply as the door swung open without a word of warning. His narrowed eyes softened at the sight of his foster son. "What manner of conduct, Estel, to barge in so recklessly," he chided, reminded, with a smile, of the lessons he gave when Aragorn was but a child.

Aragorn entered the room quietly, without answering his foster father.

Elrond frowned, surveying Aragorn in concern. The Elf-lord had detected something different in Aragorn's demeanor since the day of the banquet, and he suspected that Aragorn had discovered Arwen's affections for Heled. He had set those suspicions aside, however, when he saw the ease and grace with which Aragorn continued to carry himself. Now, eight days later, as Elrond studied the Ranger, he realized his mistake. Aragorn had concealed his sorrow, and he had done so well enough that even the master of Rivendell had been fooled.

It seemed as though Aragorn's façade had finally cracked. His appearance was not unusual, but a shadow of deep and terrible pain hung over him. That very pain was made none the more clear in his eyes, which had finally opened to reveal his emotions. Elrond felt an ache deep inside him at seeing the Ranger so broken. He reached out a hand to clasp the other's shoulder.

"Do not be so saddened by this, Aragorn. Not even the wisest know what the future may give. Just as she could turn from you, so she could turn back to you."

"I could have sustained it," said Aragorn, his words barely audible. "Yet, meeting her again today has cut open that chasm of despair."

"Wait for her to realize her folly. I know and she will know too that you are the only one she loves."

"Surely you jest! Her love for Heled is so apparent. I think, perhaps, it is for the best that she loves him instead. Much sorrow would befall many should she stay with me, forsaking the immortality of the Elves." Aragorn looked into Elrond's eyes, his own sad and resigned, with some sort of apology in them.

For a moment, the lord of Rivendell struggled with his own emotions. As soon as he had gotten over his momentary spout of selfishness, he said gently, "What of your sorrow, Aragorn? Does that not count? And do not think that I would be happy to have her marry Heled, merely because he is an Elf and would not take away her mortality." He paused to let this statement sink in. "I would say this to you, ere I sail to the West: None other would I have her love but you."

These words finally broke past Aragorn's restraints and he leaned against his foster father, tears slipping from his eyes. The gratitude to Elrond for his words and the immense pain of the last eight days poured out with the tears.

Quietly, Elrond received each tear. He felt the agony that wracked Aragorn's body and understood that gratitude was not the only cause for these tears. Elrond knew that the precious moment was not to be broken by petty words. He held Aragorn to him, giving what comfort he could in silence.

After a length of time, the tears stopped and Aragorn lifted his head, looking slightly ashamed. He stepped awkwardly from Elrond's embrace. "Thank you, Elrond," he said, appreciation weaving his tone.

"Think nothing of it," Elrond answered.

It was some time before Aragorn could bring himself to voice what he had first come to say. As soon as he had gotten the words out of his mouth, he could see the unhappy look cross the other's face.

Elrond did not think it was a good idea for Aragorn to leave so soon. He truly believed that Arwen would eventually see her folly and return to Aragorn's side, but he did not know how long it would take for her to get over her indecision.

"If you wish to leave Rivendell, you are free to go," said Elrond, "but if I may give counsel to you, I suggest you stay a while longer."

"As much as I long to stay, my lord, I am afraid I have much to do at Gondor. And if the truth be told, I do not know if I could bear staying so close to Arwen, yet knowing she does not return my feelings." Watching his foster father's displeasure grow, Aragorn added warily, "I will stay for another day or two, but no longer, if you consent."

The lord of Rivendell could hardly not consent.

* * *

It was a dark night, the darkest so far this year. The moon was pale and barely visible, offering the only light. Ominous gray clouds loomed across the sky, hiding the stars. Chilly breezes swept the land, their fingers reaching into every crevice.

Heled's eyes burned into the night. Anger warmed his body, cloaking him from the cold.

Once he got his hands on Aragorn...! Heled clenched his fists. After witnessing the scene in the afternoon between Aragorn and Arwen, he suspected that Arwen was beginning to reconsider her decision. If she should turn back to Aragorn, Heled was sure he would snap.

Jealousy raged within him as memories of the past came back to taunt him.

"It's a strange night, isn't it?" came a familiar voice, interrupting his thoughts.

Heled turned slowly to the Man beside him, his eyes smoldering. "Quite," he bit out tightly.

Aragorn glanced at the Elf. A sad smile was on his face. "This has been a strange visit for me, if the term 'strange' may be used at all."

Heled wondered why the Man was talking to him. They weren't exactly on friendly terms. He did not answer, waiting for the other to continue.

"I can hardly blame her for choosing you."

He started at this sudden turn of conversation. He narrowed his eyes at the other, but kept his silence.

"I wish the best for you and Arwen, Heled," said Aragorn, now turning fully to look Heled in the eyes. "May you both be gifted with endless love and happiness."

Heled glared fiercely at the Ranger. "I do not care for your mocking words, Aragorn. I have never cared for them."

He sighed. "I realize that we have had our differences in the past, Heled, but I was hoping we could patch that up, now that she has chosen you." There was a brief flash of pain in his eyes, but he hid it quickly.

Understanding slowly dawned on the Elf. Aragorn had thought the basis of Heled's hatred was Arwen! "It was not her. It has never been her." Heled smiled slowly, unpleasantly. "You thought I was jealous of the love you shared, didn't you? But I didn't love her. I still do not love her." He laughed, consumed with the urge to hurt the Man. "You are so naïve, Aragorn! I took her, not because I love her, but because I wanted to hurt you. I truly hate you, Aragorn son of Arathorn. I hate you with unbelievable vehemence."

Stunned, Aragorn stared. He forced a question past his lips. "Why?"

"You were always Elrond's favorite," Heled sneered. "Everyone loved you, though I do not know why. You were a Man"-he spat this out, as though the very word tasted foul-"They named you their hope. They gave you all the best of everything. Estel, the heir of Gondor, was revered and cherished, while insignificant Heled, named after a foolish scholar, was shunted to the side, forced to live in your shadow. You stole my dreams from me. You stole all the love, all the attention. How can you blame me for hating you?"

Aragorn returned his gaze to the stars. What a mess this was! Carefully, he said, "I do not blame you, Heled. I am sorry for the pain I have caused you, but surely, you need not bring Arwen into it? None of this concerns her-"

"To the contrary, my lord," Heled interrupted, his eyes glinting, defying the cold of the night. "I have not failed to notice the extraordinary love you bear her. If I should take her away from you, wouldn't you be crushed, even to the point of no recovery? This concerns her very much, Aragorn."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Heled's smile broadened. "Why shouldn't I tell you this? Arwen would never believe you if you relayed the information to her, nor would anyone else. They would all think you were trying to win Arwen back. I want you to suffer, Aragorn. What better way to do it than by taking away your dearest love and letting you know that it was all your fault?"

"You can't possibly get away with this, Heled."

"Oh?" A challenge glinted in Heled's fiery blue eyes and something close to rage burned behind it. "I have had twenty years to plan and to seethe in fury."

* * *

(sighs) I hate this chapter! I hope someone will like it because I positively hate it! It is even worse than the previous chapter, if that's possible. Instead of the action I promised, there's just a ton of talking. I apologize. It seems my writing's deteriorating.

Anyways, it'd be great if anyone could review! Thanks for reading!


	6. Departure

Aragorn's Sorrow  
By EmptyWord

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers! Thank goodness for you guys! This was a really difficult chapter to write. I must have changed the whole thing five times! But this is the result and I hope everyone enjoys!

**Disclaimer:** _The Lord of the Rings_ is the property of John Ronald Reuel Tolkein, Christopher Tolkein, Allen & Unwin, Ballantine Books, Houghton-Mifflin, and innumerable others. My name does not appear anywhere on the list. No monetary profit is intended in the writing of this story.

* * *

Chapter Six: Departure

Two days pass quickly in the House of Elrond and it was not long before Aragorn had to leave. Many might have thought it reckless to leave Arwen behind and let Heled do what he would, but Aragorn was aware that he really had no choice. Heled had spoken truly when he said that no one would believe Aragorn should Aragorn venture to spill all his secrets. Therefore, it would not be wise to speak of it to anyone. The best thing to do for the moment would still be to leave. Aragorn would not go if he did not think Arwen would be safe, but he was sure that Heled would not seek to hurt her. After all, it was not her he hated but Aragorn.

The skies were gray and gloomy with the threat of a storm. The clouds sulked with the weight, impatient to release their burden. No cheery sun welcomed the Man as he stepped outside. It was not a good day to be on the road, but the king of Gondor needed to leave. He would take his chances.

"Why so eager to leave, Lord Aragorn?" came a voice, cold and cutting.

Aragorn turned sharply to regard the source of the voice with a sinking heart. He might have guessed it was Heled. The Elf had tried to make his last two days in Rivendell as miserable as possible. Aragorn was no longer able to watch the scenery in peace. Heled would barge into his thoughts and make a snide remark. For the most part, Aragorn endured the nuisance quietly, unwilling to stir up the situation even further. However, he was beginning to feel sparks of irritation whenever the Elf appeared, and Aragorn was afraid that he might lose his temper soon.

"Gondor has stood alone for far too long. I must return." As Aragorn spoke, someone else stepped out from behind Heled. Aragorn's heart dropped even lower when he saw that it was Arwen.

Arwen managed to maintain her outward calm, although inwardly, her thoughts and emotions were spinning out of control. Aragorn looked so regal and handsome, standing calmly outside, the gray sky overhead enhancing his swirling gray eyes. He blended well with the background, his appearances somehow as natural and endearing as the earth itself. It was what had first drawn her to him. A jagged slit of lightning cracked the air, reminding Arwen that a storm was brewing. "My lord," she said, "a storm is coming quickly. It is far too dangerous for you to try to travel in this weather. Please, stay a few more days, until the storm has passed."

His gray eyes darkened several shades. The scene before him grieved him greatly. Arwen stood quietly beside Heled, the two of them watching him expectantly. Two tall, graceful figures in the gloom, almost as if bidding him farewell. They looked so perfect together. Heled claimed to not love Arwen, but Aragorn was sure that he would eventually. He was comfortable with her at least. And what right did Aragorn have to tear them apart? What right did he have to steal Arwen's mortality? He should just leave them be.

Feeling the remains of his heart tearing with every word, Aragorn forced himself to speak. "Thank you, Lady Undomiel, but truly, I must be on my way. After all, the king of Gondor should not be frightened by some rain." He smiled wanly. "Farewell, friends." He turned on his heels and strode away.

"Wait!" Arwen cried out, taking a quick step forward, but Heled's hand came even quicker to her arm, holding her back. He spoke gently, "Come, Arwen, let us return inside. It is too chilly out here."

It was only until Aragorn's figure had faded completely into the gloom that Arwen stopped watching. And then, she slumped down onto the floor, her black hair piling around her in rippling waves of darkness.

"Arwen!" Heled cried out, reaching down to pull her back up. "Please, my dear, come." He took her hand and led her back into Elrond's House. As they walked, Heled cast a sidelong glance at the lady. She looked far more distressed than he had expected her to be. It was apparent she still held some feelings for the Man. Heled frowned. There was no way he was going to let Aragorn win Arwen back, or win anything for that matter.

* * *

Legolas peered through the darkness, silently cursing the weather-not even Elf eyes could see far without light. It was fortunate that he was nearly at Rivendell now and wouldn't have to travel far in the coming storm, but the clouds sagged with their weight and he was sure that he was still going to get wet. Legolas spurred his mount on, carefully avoiding any tree trunks that happened to be in the way.

There was a sudden flash of lightning, accompanied in moments by the growling thunder. The horse reared frantically and would have bolted had Legolas not been gripping the reins so firmly. As it was, Legolas was thrown slightly off-balance. With darkening eyes, the Elf shifted back onto the saddle. Aragorn would definitely need a good reason for staying so long at Rivendell. Legolas was not going to have his ride have been for nothing, not after all this trouble.

A fat, heavy drop of rain splashed on his hand, jerking his eyes upward. Noting the thick mass of gray beyond the dark foliage, Legolas was forced to acknowledged the raindrop for what it was, the signal for the clouds to unleash their worst. Hardening his resolve, he began guiding the horse through the trees, studiously ignoring the large pelts of water that dropped from the sky.

As the horse stepped onto a well-trodden dirt path, Legolas stopped a moment to study his surroundings. With a cry of joy, which elicited a twitch from his horse, Legolas realized that he had not much farther to go before arriving at Elrond's House. He quickened the pace of his horse, urging it on through the now pounding rain. It wasn't long before Legolas broke past the crowd of trees and caught sight of the stables just ahead. He stopped from rushing toward it when he noticed the figure on horseback trotting out of the stable.

With a shock, Legolas recognized the rider as Aragorn. But what in the world could Aragorn be thinking? Even the worst of fools knew it was too risky to ride in a storm as violent as this one. Legolas cantered his horse into the open, halting within a foot of Aragorn's stallion.

"Aragorn!" he said, frowning at the Man. "What is the meaning of this madness? Why are you not in Elrond's House?"

Aragorn had not seen the Elf until he'd spoken. Blinking in surprise, Aragorn raised his head to stare at his friend. "Legolas?"

"What are you doing, Aragorn? It's pouring out here!!"

"I could ask the same of you, Legolas," Aragorn pointed out with a tired smile. "I thought you were in Mirkwood."

"That can be discussed later. I would really prefer to be somewhere warm and dry at the moment." The Elf-prince grinned back at the other, his hair and clothes completely soaked. "I don't suppose it would be too much trouble to take refuge in the stable with the horses?"

Aragorn looked away, uneasiness seeping into his expression. "I do not plan on returning to Elrond's House, Legolas," said the Ranger softly. "I am leaving."

Sharp green eyes narrowed dangerously. Elves never miss the slightest change of expression, and certainly not this Elf. But Legolas simply opted for innocence. "Leaving...without Arwen?"

"Without Arwen, yes," he choked out, forcing the words out. "The circumstances...have changed."

Legolas reached over and gripped the other stallion's bridle. With a gentle tug, he led both horses toward the stables. Before Aragorn could protest, Legolas spoke, "No circumstances can be so bad that you need to leave in a thunderstorm."

Nevertheless, Aragorn halted his horse, oblivious to the heavy rain falling in sheets around him. Avoiding his friend's eyes, he said quietly, "I cannot stay here anymore. It has all been too much. I must go."

Paying no heed to the Ranger, Legolas continued to pull the horses toward shelter, to which they eagerly agreed. When Aragorn made a move to stop again, Legolas shot him a warning glance. Subdued by the compassion in those green eyes, the Man allowed his mount to be drawn to the stables. Once they were beneath the dry roof, the horses were immediately tended to. Amidst the flurry of getting the horses dry, cleaning them, and feeding them-not to mention drying themselves-, there was no time to converse. But when the horses were taken care of, Aragorn knew he could not escape from questions any longer. He withdrew further into the stable, whispering greetings to each horse and trying to forget unpleasant memories.

Legolas stared out into the downpour. Everything was so gray today, so gray and so gloomy. Something was wrong. Nature did not unleash its fury like this unless it had been duly angered. With a sigh, he turned to find Aragorn.

He knew the Man had been avoiding him. And he could guess why. Something had happened between Aragorn and Arwen since the Ranger's stay at Rivendell, something drastic enough to cause Aragorn to run away. Legolas knew Aragorn feared the inevitable questions, but they needed to be asked. Legolas could not help his friend until he knew what had happened. So the Elf prince silently confronted Aragorn.

"I won't run around in circles, Aragorn. What is wrong?"

The Ranger was silent for a moment. Then, wearily, "Arwen is in love with another Elf."

* * *

The day had given way to night, but the rain continued to beat furiously against the roof of the house. Arwen watched glumly from her place on the mat as Heled glided into the hall, a charming smile on his lips. His hair glowed golden and his blue eyes sparkled cheerily, contrasting sharply with the gloom. How could he be so happy on a day like this? How could he react so cheerfully to Aragorn's departure? Her eyes shut briefly, painfully, at the thought of Aragorn's sudden absence.

"Why so morose, my dear?" Heled's soft voice reached her ears, even as his hand reached her shoulders. "It is not your fault that Aragorn left."

Arwen closed her eyes again, silently trying to shut out his voice, his presence. She did not want to hear this. She did not want these false words of comfort. Heled understood nothing of her pain! Aragorn did not love her. He had left. She was not to marry him, ever. Perhaps, she would not even see him again. And Elbereth, it was so final! Aragorn had gone.

And even amidst the suffering, Arwen realized she should not care. Indeed, she should be glad that Aragorn had left, allowing her control over her scattered emotions again.

"Arwen..."

She stood up abruptly, cutting him off. Her eyes opened to reveal endless depths of grief. "No, please. Let me be for this moment. Please."

Heled's expression darkened. "You still love him, don't you?" he said harshly.

"No! I..." She stopped. She couldn't pretend, not to Heled and not to herself. No matter how much she tried to stop loving Aragorn, she would always love him.

Heled turned abruptly and stormed away.

Arwen looked after him helplessly, longing to call him back. Despite her need of time to think alone, she did not wish to push him away. How she needed a friend during this time! Why was everyone leaving? Why was she always driving people away?

Exhausted for some reason, she collapsed back onto the ornately decorated mat. Tears surged into her eyes again and she rapidly blinked them away, wondering why she cried so often and so easily these days.

Above her, the weather continued its onslaught, the rain's angry pounding clashing against her ears.

* * *

I know, I know! This chapter was much shorter than the others! But I had to cut off a lot of it because it just didn't fit.

I'm thinking of hurrying this along now. sheepishly Patience is a virtue, so they say, but it's definitely not MY virtue. Another two or three chapters left to write, I think.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and please leave a review!


	7. Fairy Tales

Aragorn's Sorrow  
By EmptyWord

* * *

**Author's Notes:** A big apology to everyone reading this. I now give you leave to label me as the worst of procrastinators and the laziest of bums (excuse my saying so). Be that as it may, I'm afraid I will not be able to hurry my updates, given the fact that school's soon to start. (9th grade! Ahhhh! runs away)

Once again, a huge THANK YOU to all of my wonderful, superb reviewers! You guys really know how to cheer me up. And an extra thank you to Iska Anoron who proofread my work.

Lastly...drumroll...I've revised the whole thing! From the first chapter to the sixth. I had been getting several complaints about my horrible Arwen, so I decided to read over what I'd written. What an eye-opener too! Every complaint about Arwen was not only justified, but also an understatement. I immediately set about changing her parts. I hope you guys like the result!

**Disclaimer:** _The Lord of the Rings_ is the property of John Ronald Reuel Tolkein, Christopher Tolkein, Allen & Unwin, Ballantine Books, Houghton-Mifflin, and innumerable others. My name does not appear anywhere on the list. No monetary profit is intended in the writing of this story.

* * *

Chapter Seven: Fairy Tales

The library of Rivendell was enormous, containing several collections of books and tomes. Every arcane tale of the history of Middle Earth could be found somewhere on the shelves, from the Creation of the world to Earendil's journey to Valinor, the most recent edition being Sauron's Demise and the End of the Third Age. And not only was the entire history of Middle Earth laid out here, but there were also sections of the library designated for maps and guides of places in Middle Earth.

Hung upon the stone walls were magnificent tapestries depicting certain events of the past. The most majestic of these tapestries, one with an elaborate scarlet border and a golden sheen, was a brilliant picture of the High King of the Noldor Fingolfin challenging Morgoth to a battle, a battle that would result in the death of the valiant and beloved High King. This tapestry well-portrayed Fingolfin in all his glory and Morgoth full of dread, and such were the two that the tapestry was brought into a seeming of life.

Beside this great tapestry stood Arwen Undomiel, the light of Fingolfin and the terror of Morgoth falling upon her figure. Yet, she cast not a glance at the tapestry, nor on any other. Her gaze was fixed, rather, upon a heavy, beautifully bound book, the cover of which shone with silver stars. Above the stars were three words, in elegant Elvish script: Lay of Luthien.

Arwen fingered the book, recalling the tale of Beren One-hand and Luthien Tinuviel that she had heard more than once. Theirs was a beautiful story of love and loyalty and selflessness. Their lives had been fraught with grief and loss, and yet, at the last, they lived in happiness and love to the end of their days.

Her eyes closed as a dreamy smile lit her face. She'd often fancied herself to be Luthien and Aragorn as Beren. She'd imagined that Aragorn would love her so much he'd do anything for her hand in marriage and would thus embark on a journey to find favor in her father's eyes. As for Arwen, she'd give up everything for Aragorn and journey with him. And their love would carry them through, as Beren and Luthien's love had.

But a story such as Luthien's was a fairy tale. The Valar could not possibly be expected to grant another fairy tale of unmatched love and glory to the Children of Iluvatar. Aragorn did not love her, and she had not given everything to be with him.

Arwen's eyes shot open, and a frown emerged over her brows. She should not be dwelling on Aragorn so much. Why in Elbereth's name had it been decreed that she should love Aragorn to such an extent while he could simply go merrily about his own business and forget her?

"Arwen."

She turned in surprise to meet her father's gaze. Lord Elrond stood beside a tall bookshelf, regarding her quietly. Arwen smiled brightly. "Father!"

"The storm has passed."

She blinked. "Has it?" Arwen asked, taken aback. She must have been so absorbed with the book that she had not noticed when the pounding overhead had ceased.

Elrond watched her. "But it is not over."

"Pardon?" She didn't understand. Why was he contradicting himself?

"Aragorn left."

She froze, feeling the heavy force of those words spoken in her father's quiet voice slam into her. "Father," she said weakly, "you are behaving so strangely today."

Lord Elrond sighed and relented slightly. "Aragorn is gone, my daughter, because you have driven him away. And the storm will never truly pass until you have brought the son of Arathorn back."

"No," Arwen whispered in a voice flooded with pain. "I have not driven him away! The king of Gondor leaves of his own free will, his own judgment. He does not and never will heed my words or my heart."

She sounded so grieved, so sincere! "You do not truly believe that Aragorn does not love you, surely?"

"No love has he for me, my lord," she answered and lowered her eyes so he would not see the tears in them.

Astonishment surged through Elrond, though none of it showed on his face. What a queer quandary, that the two should love the other so much, yet doubt the other's love for them!

"Yet how can one ever be sure?" Elrond said gently. "Do not forget, Arwen, that he arrived to see you in another's arms. Perhaps Aragorn imagines he is the one to have lost your love."

Arwen recalled the look of despair on Aragorn's face when he had seen her with Heled for the first time. "Yet, you may be wrong, Father," she said hesitantly. "Far more likely is it that he has left me. What should happen if I go to bring him back, as you ask, and he does not love me?"

Elrond took Arwen's hand within his own. He gazed into her eyes with wisdom and kindness. "What should happen, then, if you do not go and yet, he loves you verily?"

He turned his attention to the large book still clutched in her hands and smiled. He took the book and perused through it. "The Lay of Luthien. It's a wonderful story, isn't it? But it is not merely a story. It happened, Arwen, it is reality because Beren and Luthien were strong enough to push their doubts aside."

He handed her the book, still open. "I have a few matters to attend to now, Arwen. Take heed of Beren's words, my dear, and make your choice wisely. Your future and your happiness depend on it."

Beren's words? She wondered, as she watched her father leave. Absently, she glanced down at the book in her hands and started. The two pages peering back up at her were not crawling with Elvish script as she'd expected, nor even exhibit to beautiful pictures of Luthien. There was a single line of text on each page, thus reading:

_'Yet Luthien was gnawed with anxiety and ran after him, knowing in her heart the peril that he ventured into._

_Seeing she would forestall him, Beren drew back, saying, "My choice I have made, my doom I must bear. And Lovely One, I say to you this: if I risk nothing, I risk even more."'_

That was all. No other words lay upon the page to be read. No other lines were there for eager eyes to grasp at. But Arwen would not have cared for more. Indeed, Beren's last words were enough: "if I risk nothing, I risk even more." Simple words they were, worth little in the long, impressive history of Middle Earth, yet better spoken than any great Elf of old could have declared.

Beren had risked a great deal in entering into Morgoth's domain and attempting to steal one of the Silmarils embedded on the fell lord's crown. He had risked not only his own life, but Luthien's as well, and certainly that was a great peril. Yet, the son of Barahir had realized that were he not to do so, he risked being parted from Luthien forever, as her father had consented in setting her hand in his for no less than a jewel upon Morgoth's crown. Hence, if Beren did not risk his quest, he risked losing Luthien, and he would not suffer that.

Arwen closed the book gently. Would she risk going after Aragorn?

She walked toward the bookshelves. What if Aragorn rejected her?

Her hand reached up to return the Lay of Luthien to its proper place. But what if her father was right and Aragorn did love her after all?

The book settled onto the marble shelf with a light thud. Would she be as strong as Beren and risk so much to be with Aragorn, if it was possible?

* * *

Legolas was troubled.

To the outward eye, his features were calm and his eyes clear. Nothing unusual could be discerned from his appearance. But in his heart lurked the awareness of danger. When he'd heard Aragorn's tale and of the Elf Heled, his mind had flashed a transient, but piercing warning. A caution sign had momentarily blazed through his system, a sign that had subsided now to a nagging disquiet.

Try as he would, Legolas simply could not grasp the meaning of that warning. What was so troublesome about Aragorn's situation? Certainly, the Ranger-turned-King had suffered much, and Legolas was terribly sorry for it, but the situation was quite easy to resolve. Legolas was certain that Arwen Undomiel still bore feelings for Aragorn and a happy ending would result so long as they had a chance to meet and talk again. So...what was it that troubled him?

The Elf-prince longed to grab that annoying sprite of a warning and throttle it until it confessed the reason it had been birthed. He let out a laugh at this thought.

Aragorn glanced over in surprise. "Pray, Legolas, what amuses you thus?"

The other laughed again and winked. "I dare not reveal my thoughts to you, O most solemn king, lest I suffer your reproach!"

"Indeed?" He cast the Elf a suspicious look. "I wonder greatly what these thoughts could be that you should care to hide them from me." He hesitated. "Would it perhaps have to do with this return trip to Rivendell?"

Legolas grinned ever more broadly. This "return trip" was going to bring Aragorn and Arwen back together, even in the face of that caution sign lurking just out of reach. It had been very difficult to persuade the adamant Aragorn to return to Rivendell, and it was only by reminding Aragorn that he hadn't returned Arwen's necklace yet that Legolas managed it. Of course, nothing was so easily accomplished, what with Aragorn asking why Legolas couldn't give it back for him and what Elrond would think of the unexpected and rather rude return; but Legolas was clever, and with his quicksilver tongue, it was only a matter of minutes to set Aragorn back for Rivendell.

On their way to the Last Homely House now, Legolas realized that, in spite of his coaxing, Aragorn still doubted the wisdom of going back. "I'd really rather not bandy words with you for the present, King Elessar," Legolas murmured.

Aragorn fell silent. He had his own thoughts after all. It would not be an easy task to stoically face Arwen long enough for him to return the Evenstar necklace to her. Perhaps, Aragorn mused, he could give the necklace to Elrond instead. Yes, it would be better not to face Arwen.

So it was that the two friends arrived at Elrond's House in pensive silence. And what a shock it was for them to see Arwen stepping out into the open, unaccompanied and unaware of their presence.

Aragorn's eyes widened and he flung the hood of his cloak over his head, habitual concealment when he had no wish to be recognized.

Legolas, however, did not know of Aragorn's sudden change of mind. He swung off his mount and hailed Arwen, "My lady, what a delight!"

Blinking her thoughts away, Arwen glanced at the speaker of the voice. A smile instantly lit her face. "Prince of Mirkwood!" she exclaimed, coming forward. "Pray, what brings you to my father's haven? I am very glad-"

She stopped, the cadence of her lovely voice ending sharply. She stared at the hooded figure who now stood behind Legolas, and her heart skipped a beat. His dear face was hidden in shadow, his figure discreetly cloaked, but he might as well have come with trumpets blaring and heralds announcing his arrival, so distinctly did Arwen feel his presence. No façade could ever hide him from her heart.

Legolas turned to look where her gaze had gone. He grinned at the hiding man. "Poltroon!" he teased but did not reveal Aragorn's identity to Arwen. Aragorn could do that himself when he gave Arwen her necklace.

Arwen felt a wave of dizziness sweep over her and the force of it almost toppled her. From a long way off she heard Legolas's voice say, "Well then, if you'll pardon me, I must be greeting Lord Elrond."

She blinked rapidly, struggling to steady herself. She could feel herself weakening these days, and the very thought of Aragorn's departure seemed to drag her down even more. And yet, here he was! The man she loved had returned for some unknown reason and he stood before her now... He was following Legolas, silently passing by her... He was past her, the sense of his presence dimming with each split second... He was walking away, without a word and without a glance...

_'If I risk nothing, I risk even more.'_ Beren's words thundered across her mind; her senses flooded by the tumult of emotion, Arwen knew this was the crucial trial: Would she take the chance and tell Aragorn all?

Arwen couldn't focus. Thoughts swam in circles in her mind, fleeting and disoriented. She couldn't see, she couldn't hear, she couldn't move, she couldn't think! But with its last effort, her heart screamed a single word at her: _COWARD!_

Arwen's vision cleared and her clouded senses tasted instant freedom. She whirled around and dashed after the man about to enter Elrond's House, his name rising unbidden to her lips, "Estel!"

The king halted abruptly, acknowledging the name as his own and the voice as Arwen's. He turned slowly, afraid to face the one who had broken his heart. He was met with one equally afraid and equally heart-broken.

"Estel..." she said again, coming to a stop before him. Her eyes were moist and silver tears glistened on her cheeks. She tenderly brushed his long shaggy hair, together removing the offending hood that hid his beloved face. "Estel, I...I love you." In the bravest act of her life, she lifted her large, fearful eyes to watch his reaction.

Aragorn's breath froze. A rush of warmth suffused him and a pounding arose in his ears. He felt as though he'd been struck by lightning. Perhaps he had, and this was just a dream of his. If it was a dream, he thought desperately, then he wanted it to last! He gazed on Arwen with painfully longing eyes, assiduously committing every detail of her to memory.

Arwen's hand touched his cheek hesitantly. The shock on his face was palpable enough, but she couldn't decipher the other emotions that fleeted through his eyes. If she'd thought she saw a hint of love, she believed it to be her imagination at work. But Aragorn hadn't backed away yet, nor had he rebuked her with a cold word, so she decided she would give it another shot. If her father happened to be wrong and Aragorn did not love her, at least she would not suffer the shame of cowardice. "I must seem like a hypocrite," continued Arwen, "saying one thing, but acting in another way. For this, I cannot but blame myself. But I will say only this, and then allow you the freedom to choose whether to love me or to leave me. I have never loved Heled; I love only you and always will."

The gentle touch on his cheek jolted him out of his daze. He reached up and covered her hand with his own. Aragorn was overcome with emotion, but he forced himself to speak. "I have had no cause to hope as much these preceding days, but if you really love me, then I rejoice for the mercy of the Valar."

She gazed at him in wonder. "Do you mean...you still love me?"

Aragorn gathered her lovingly into his embrace, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "How can I not?" he whispered his answer, and he held her close.

A soft sigh escaped her lips. She laid her head against his chest, snuggled within his arms. His love wrapped around her in a warm, secure bubble, promising the stars of heaven and the flowers of earth and all the light that had ever been. How could she have ever doubted him? How could she have ever turned to Heled? Only with Aragorn was there this sweet contentment, this unblemished ecstasy that pervaded her very being and elevated her to heights unknown.

They were not so different from Luthien and Beren! Their love had been just as strong and true as those two legends'. Fairy tales, then, were not so impossible. And Arwen thanked the Valar for granting her her own marvelous fairy tale.

Love is a delightful thing. It is the best link that can join two people together, and while they are in love, they are brought to the zenith of rapture. Unfortunately, they are also too often blinded by the hazy joy of their love, as was the case this time.

Arwen and Aragorn were too absorbed with each other to notice the lethal dagger slicing through the air toward them.

* * *

(grins) My first lousy attempt at a cliffhanger. Any criticism, questions, etc. would be welcome! Thanks for reading!


	8. A Murderer

Aragorn's Sorrow  
By EmptyWord

**Author's Notes:** Sorry, sorry, sorry!! I've taken half a year to update, I can't believe it myself! It won't ever take this long again, I promise! But thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and particularly to those who took the extra time to email me and urge me to update. It means a lot.

I realize that Glorfindel would also have had golden hair, but I'd clean forgotten about that, so this will have to do.

Lastly, Fearing is pronounced Fey-ring. (You'll know what I'm talking about once you read this chapter)

**Disclaimer:** _The Lord of the Rings_ is the property of John Ronald Reuel Tolkein, Christopher Tolkein, Allen & Unwin, Ballantine Books, Houghton-Mifflin, and innumerable others. My name does not appear anywhere on the list. No monetary profit is intended in the writing of this story.

"I do not own LOTR; it owns me." I kind of forgot who said something like this, but in any case, it doesn't belong to me. I just thought it fit: I'm more than obsessed. I'm possessed.

* * *

Chapter Eight: A Murderer

Swift as the eagle snatching its prey, Legolas grabbed the dagger from its deadly path. A sharp pain seared his fingers, but he ignored it. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted a golden-haired Elf disappearing around a corner.

"Legolas?"

The Elf prince looked back at his friend. Aragorn and Arwen had separated, though they still held hands, and both gazed at him in concern.

"Aragorn, what color of hair did you say Heled have?"

Aragorn frowned. "Golden. Why?"

Legolas made sure to keep the dagger behind his back. He shrugged nonchalantly. "I was wondering. He is the only one here with golden hair?"

The ranger nodded, frown still in place.

"Very well. I'll leave you two to your reunion then." Legolas smirked and was about to walk off when he seemed to reconsider something and said quietly, "Watch your back, Aragorn." Then he left.

Aragorn stared after him.

"Estel?" whispered a soft voice at his side.

Turning, he smiled, banishing any more dark thoughts he might have had. "I'm sure Legolas can explain my unexpected return to Elrond. Meanwhile, would you care for a walk, my lady?"

"I would care for nothing else, my lord," she answered, gray eyes shimmering with the inward light that had named her Evenstar.

* * *

"Legolas!"

Elrond stood quickly and embraced the Elf in the doorway. "What brings you here unannounced?"

"Concern for you, of course, my lord," Legolas answered with a grin. "My father worried you were growing too lazy and fat in your safe, cozy home here. He appointed me to drag you out and duel him."

Elrond raised an eyebrow, but his eyes were twinkling. "Does he seek a humiliating defeat then?" A sudden smile transformed his face, lightening his usually serious expression. "I'm disappointed in you, Legolas. An elfling could come up with something better than that."

Legolas looked horrified. "You insult me, my lord! How dare you compare my ingenious mind to that of a mere infant's?"

"I didn't; I said you were worse."

A fleeting smile, then, "Knowing this, you will forgive this uncultured mind for crushing your rare smile and dredging up worry again?"

As quickly as that, as Legolas had sadly known, Elrond's habitual mask of gravity reappeared. His dark eyes sobered and returned to their piercing state. "Worry for what?" The master of Rivendell studied Legolas carefully and noticed something he did not quite like. "Perhaps your bloodied sleeve, Legolas?"

Slight chagrin crossed the other's sylvan features. He revealed the dagger still in his wounded hand. "I did not mean to tell you this immediately, but I see now that you won't be placated without knowing the cause for this dagger. No, no, I am fine. It is a small wound, of no import." He brushed off Elrond's concern and continued, "You will not like this news, I'm afraid, and frankly, neither would I."

Elrond nodded, waiting.

With a humorless smile, Legolas said, "I suspect you have a would-be murderer in your house, my lord."

The Elf-lord was quiet, and no evidence of surprise or denial was apparent in his serene expression. His unwavering gaze remained on the bloody dagger, as if he could perceive the entire story simply by looking at the weapon. Finally, he spoke, "And who do you propose this 'would-be murderer' is, to be so foolish as to disturb the peace of Elrond's house?"

"I cannot be certain, but...do I have leave to voice my suspicions?"

Elrond cast a wry look at his friend. "When do you ever need my leave to do anything, you unruly rascal?"

A grin bloomed on Legolas' lips, but it as gone quickly. "It would not seem unlikely, I should think, that Heled would seek revenge on Aragorn."

The Elf-lord's eyes narrowed. "Elucidate, please. Has Aragorn returned? If so, whatever has he done to provoke Heled to such extremes? And how, if I may ask, do you know Heled?"

As Legolas explained of Aragorn's return and reunion with Arwen, Elrond's expression changed from one of doubt to one of disbelieving joy and, finally, to one of worry.

There was a hiatus in their discourse as Elrond reined in his happiness for Aragorn and Arwen and mulled over the rest of what Legolas had told him.

"So," Elrond said at length, "you think Heled was also witness to their reunion and, overcome with jealousy, threw a dagger to kill Aragorn."

"From what Aragorn has told me, they were never friends."

"No, Heled always seemed to hate Aragorn," Elrond affirmed, "but to say he is your 'would-be murderer' remains an assumption."

Legolas agreed, but it did not make him any less suspicious of Heled or troubled by the thought of the Elf. "Yet, it could not hurt to have him watched from now on."

The lord of Rivendell eyed Legolas grimly. "Very well. Tail him to your heart's content."

* * *

Legolas did not miss an opportunity to do what he said he would do. Indeed, he spent most of the rest of the day watching Heled from the shadows or from around corners. However, he always did so with the utmost caution, careful not to let Heled catch a glimpse of him.

Which was why Legolas was taken aback when Heled marched up to him that evening and demanded why he was following him.

Recovering his equilibrium almost immediately, Legolas opted for an innocent smile that didn't look at all innocent. "Following you?" he murmured in false surprise. "Forgive me if it seemed so, but I have not had the slightest intention of following you. We must have been heading for the same places today," he added unconvincingly.

Heled's glare would have melted iron. "If you expect me to believe that lie, you must think me the most gullible fool here!"

"Gullible, I doubt; but fool, most definitely," Legolas quipped with a wink.

The golden-haired one reached out swiftly and gripped Legolas's wrist hard. "You stuck-up bastard! You think you can get anything you want, swaggering about with your high and mighty attitude!" He leaned in close then, eyes wild and smoldering; his voice dropped to a menacing hiss. "You may not remember me, prince of Mirkwood, but I warn you, I still owe you a lot from years past and I need only the slightest provocation to return your favors."

Heled stepped back, saying, "Lay off of me, or there will be blood again." With a smirk, he whirled away.

Legolas let him go, watching him with narrowed eyes. The truth was, he did remember this Elf now, might not have if Heled hadn't confronted him, but since he had gotten a good look at the smooth, beautiful features and blazing eyes, he'd recognized Heled. He finally understood the reason for that annoying caution sign he'd felt when he'd heard of Aragorn's situation, and he didn't like it.

There'd once been an elf at Mirkwood with those same features and eyes. His name hadn't been Heled of course but Eredhel Fearing.

Actually, Legolas didn't really remember his name. No one ever really knew it in the first place. Eredhel Fearing was a nickname the common folk had given him, for he was always alone, without any companions, and he was cold of spirit, or so it was said.

Eredhel Fearing had been around Legolas' age, perhaps a little younger. Legolas remembered seeing him a few times, always in the deepest woods, wandering about aimlessly. His golden hair shone like a flame beneath the leaves, casting a shimmering glow over the rustling undergrowth. He was beautiful, even among elves. He had a willowy figure, tall and slim in stature, with deceivingly slender arms and legs. His skin was unnaturally pale, yet somehow appeared ethereal, even more beautiful than those hale from the sun. His facial features were delicately chiseled, bestowed with a unique beauty and grace. So unique, it seemed, that no one dared to befriend him.

There had been one occasion when Legolas approached him in the woods. It was midwinter and the day was cold, the sun barely managing to pierce the trees. There was a council being held that day, one council among many in that dark time, and Legolas had been excused from the tedium. He'd gladly avoided the gathering and chosen to take a peaceful stroll in the woods, ignoring the chilly air. Who could have imagined he would encounter the lone elf there, in the heart of winter? As Legolas got closer, he saw with surprise that Eredhel was staring at the trunk of an elm, unmoving. He'd called out to the elf, greeting him.

"What brings you here, Eredhel? Why do you walk in the cold when there are warm hearths within?"

Eredhel refused to look at him. "Why do you, my prince?"

Legolas slanted a surprised look at the other. "I have been busy these days. I needed some peace."

"Am I not allowed to seek peace as well?" Eredhel turned then, raising his gaze to meet Legolas'. Legolas would have gasped if he had been any less experienced. Eredhel's features were beautiful, surely enough, but it was his eyes that captured attention. They were burning blue coals of cold fire, flashing in wild untamed fury, alike to the sizzling instant when hot iron recently taken from the forge is dunked into cold water. Just as the water bubbles and the iron spews out smoke and flame, so his eyes blazed.

Legolas collected his wits, conscious now of the danger in this solitary elf. "What matter is it, Eredhel, that you would need peace from?"

Eredhel released a short laugh and turned back to the elm. A slow smile of deranged glee curled into his lips.

Legolas followed his gaze. Engraved on the trunk of the tree were two pictures. The first was of Eredhel's parents lying on the ground with an unmistakable puddle of blood pooled around them. The second was of an elf-maiden in sheer agony, with blood spattered over her torn and bruised body.

The Elf-prince looked back at Eredhel with shocked horror. There was no doubt in his mind that the elf had carven the two images, just as there was no doubt in his mind that Eredhel was insane.

A few days later, Legolas was present in his father's glittering hall when the horrifying news was brought before King Thranduil. There had been three deaths.

When Legolas saw the corpses of Eredhel's parents and the mutilated body of the elf-maiden upon the elm tree, he'd immediately delivered evidence against Eredhel and shown his father the elm tree. No one doubted the elf-prince. When Eredhel attempted to excuse himself, saying his parents deserved to die, he was met with opprobrium. There had been no slaying of elves by elves since the Kin-Slaying at the Swan Havens, and everyone cried out for his death. King Thranduil refused to have anymore elf-slayings, though, and Eredhel was banished from Mirkwood forever and would be killed if he ever returned.

A too light punishment, it seemed now, if Eredhel could be left free to wander into other lands and raise trouble there.

He needed to do something to stop the elf, Legolas knew, but what?

* * *

"Look at the stars," Arwen whispered, gaze tilted reverently to the skies. "I cannot imagine a more beautiful world. Iluvatar has truly made the night into a beauty even the day cannot compare with."

"There is only one star, one beauty, I care to look at," Aragorn murmured in return, tightening his arms around her.

She smiled and turned to face him. "I am so glad you returned, Estel. I have worried for so many days, years, you cannot imagine."

"I won't ever leave you again, Arwen, ever! We will ride back to Gondor tomorrow, if you want, and get married there." His eyes deepened with a sudden, glorious light and shined into hers with unconditional love and joy. "We're getting married, Arwen!"

Arwen laughed in delight, matching his happiness perfectly. She reached out and touched the Evenstar necklace around Aragorn's neck and whispered, "A promise kept." Smiling, she laid her head against his shoulder. That was when she saw it, the elm tree.

Aragorn frowned, feeling the sudden tension in her body. "Arwen? What is it?" He turned to the tree she was staring at but could not find anything unusual.

"Look closer," Arwen said softly, her own eyes closed, squeezed shut in fact. "What do you see?"

Aragorn bent closer and stiffened. There, on the bark of the tree was carven the image of two mutilated bodies, with a huge, ugly slash ripping through both. One was Arwen's, the other was his own.

* * *

It's getting closer to the end now. I'm so excited, I'm nearly finished! This will be the first time I actually finished a story (well, one with chapters anyhow).

I was watching this Chinese movie and there's a guy in it who looks like the Chinese version of Legolas! (or maybe I just have terrible perception...)

Thanks for reading!


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